


Approximately 400ml

by StrawberrySmog



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Beholding Kink (The Magnus Archives), Character A happily wets themself at Character B's request, Character Indulges Partner Who's Into Watersports; Finds Pleasure in Their Enthusiasm, Established Relationship, M/M, Martin has a piss kink, Omorashi, Set in Episodes 159-160 | Scottish Safehouse Period (The Magnus Archives), Watersports, brief mention of canon Jon/Georgie relationship and breakup, very brief and mild kinkshaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:34:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28909407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrawberrySmog/pseuds/StrawberrySmog
Summary: Jon finds out a very interesting fact about his new boyfriend.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 10
Kudos: 79
Collections: Bulletproof 20/21





	Approximately 400ml

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FillorianHighKink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FillorianHighKink/gifts).



The outcome of sheltering from the apocalypse in a small cabin with one’s boyfriend was something that Jon probably should have seen coming, but he really hadn’t put any thought into that part of their predicament until Martin got hard while they were making out one evening. It made Jon realize that they had never had or discussed sex, and then he realized that Martin was probably expecting a change to that situation. So, Jon told himself that the next time any unfortunate erections made their appearance, he would deal with it the way any boyfriend would.

This was how he realized that Knowing every position in the Kama Sutra was slightly different from knowing them.

“it’s really not a big deal,” Martin told him for what must have been the fifth time, “I’m not exactly the most experienced person either, which, well, that was probably a bit obvious, and it’s just one time. We don’t even have to try again until we’re both ready, I don’t care, really, it’s not that important.”

Jon recognized that understanding tone of voice. He’d last heard it back in uni, when after months of dancing around the issue he’d finally run out of reasons to tell himself he wasn’t ready to have sex with Georgie other than blind terror, which he’d decided to confront in a disaster of elbows and teeth that led to her patting his back and reassuring him while he confessed to being a virgin because it was less embarrassing than letting her think he’d pulled that performance with any kind of experience behind him.

This spiraled into a few fumbling, abortive second tries with his failure weighing heavily on him, and then avoiding any situation that could lead to sex, and then avoiding any conversation Georgie might try to start about why he could barely touch her, and it wasn’t really a shock when a few months later she told him she thought they should break up in that same sympathetic voice.

So, it was a big deal, because Jon desperately didn’t want to do that to either him or Martin.

“God, Martin,” he said, a bit more snappishly than intended. “If it’s no problem then you don’t have to talk to me like I’m some child afraid of the diving board. You’re right, it’s _not_ a big deal, and I’m perfectly ready—I’m the one who started the whole thing, after all.”

Martin deflated a bit at that—evidently he hadn’t quite hit the mark of seeming like a mature adult rather than a raging prick—and Jon hastened to add a quick, “it’s—I’m _fine_ , you don’t need to worry about me. It’ll be great, eventually.” Martin smiled a bit remained silent, so Jon smiled back and joked, “so long as you’re not into anything too weird like piss or something.”

Martin sat still for just a second too long and then gave a slightly nervous laugh, while Jon was hit with a wave of hot, secondhand shame and the knowledge that Martin was absolutely into piss, and on October 5th, 2009 had been nearly caught by his mother masturbating to a video of a guy wetting himself.

Jon blinked at the unexpected Knowing and must have made some kind of face, because Martin cringed harder than he’d ever seen him do and squeaked, “oh my god Jon, please tell me you didn’t just…”

“I’m sorry, but it was right there, you know.”

“Well it’s not, you know, a big _thing_ or anything for me, I mean I’ve never even done it with anyone in real life! And I’m not into any of that really gross stuff like drinking it or something, I just, um…” Martin trailed off, and Jon couldn’t resist snorting a bit at that.

“Really, Martin, nothing gross about pissing yourself?”

Martin groaned and fell backwards onto the bed. “Oh, shut up.”

* * *

Later that night Jon lay awake, pinned between too many blankets, Martin’s sleeping body, and the weight of his own thoughts. Since their disastrous attempt at sex earlier, Jon hadn’t stopped mulling over the encounter—every detail examined and re-examined in an endless exercise in self-humiliation, and when his mind ran out of missteps to obsess over it turned to one thing: Martin.

Or more specifically, Martin’s piss kink. It shocked Jon, deeply, not just knowing that Martin wanted to watch other people pee—knowing that Martin wanted to watch _him_ pee—but knowing that it was something he hadn’t known about him, locked away so privately in the deepest recesses of Martin.

As Jon stared at the gentle rise and fall of Martin’s chest, sleeping so soundly while Jon sat and watched like he was some alien creature in their bed, it struck him that there must be so many other things hidden inside Martin, facts and feelings and half-formed dreams, and Jon wanted to know _all_ of them. It suddenly felt as though they were almost strangers compared to that dizzyingly large amount of inner Martin that had to exist. And Martin was right there, peaceful. Unaware. If Jon wanted he could rip into Martin right here and now, take all of those secrets he was keeping from Jon and drink them up and Know Martin and know that Jon was the only person who would ever know him like that, from the hair on his skin to the nuclei of his cells and every inch of his soul—

But Jon also wanted to give himself the pleasure of discovering those things. He wanted Martin to trust him enough to turn his secrets over to Jon, to uncover them accidentally in the process of living their lives together, to be there when Martin found out about the deepest, darkest corners of his psyche he himself didn’t know existed. And currently, he really, really wanted to know how Martin would react if Jon pissed himself in front of him.

It was a strange thought, considering the idea was something Jon had never given much thought to other than a vague sense of both disgust and complete unsurprise that _of course_ there were people out there who got off on that sort of thing, but stranger still was the fact that Jon was having trouble seeing any downside to it. When he compared a bit of discomfort and a pair of wet trousers to witnessing Martin see his fantasy come to life the choice seemed obvious. Compared to actual sex it was practically nothing—Jon had been peeing for his entire life, after all, making it hard to argue he wasn’t an expert at it.

Jon had made up his mind. Tomorrow.

* * *

When Martin walked through the kitchen doorway Jon was already sitting there waiting, sipping from one teacup while the other sat empty next to a full pot.

“Oh good, you’re up,” said Jon.

“Morning to you too.” Martin gave him a quick smile and sat down to pour himself some tea. Jon sat there watching him drink while trying to come up with a good way to broach the topic, then decided there was no good way.

“Martin,” he said, “would you like to watch me pee?”

Martin coughed, which Jon felt was rather dramatic of him considering he’d specifically chosen a moment where he wasn’t drinking anything. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I asked if you wanted to watch me pee, because of, uh, what happened yesterday and how that’s sort of a thing that you, uh.” Martin stared at him, eyes enormous. Jon’s battle plan had not survived contact with the enemy. Martin continued staring. “I mean I just wanted to _know_ I don’t see why you have to act so shocked when you’re the one with the fetish anyway—"

This seemed to break Martin out of his trance and into frantic explanations. “I just, this is sort of a lot to take in at once. I’ve never told anyone about it before and, well… I really wouldn’t have expected this coming from you. No offense or anything, I just didn’t see you as a “pee yourself” type.”

“It’s—I find it interesting. The idea,” Jon said, which was as close to the truth as he could get. “Last chance to take me up on the offer, you know.”

Martin blinked. “Right.” Then he blinked again, more deeply, as if trying to rouse himself from a dream. “Um, are you sure though?”

“Christ,” said Jon, “is your plan to get out of saying yes by making me stand and answer questions ‘til I piss myself anyway?”

Martin’s look of bewilderment finally broke into a grin. “That would take way too long. We need to get you something to drink.”

* * *

“Another cup of tea?” said Martin, aggressively sweet. If they hadn’t been doing this on purpose Jon could have murdered him.

“Yes,” he said through gritted teeth. He already felt as though he might burst if he spoke too forcefully. Martin grabbed his cup and walked over to the pot, and Jon was left to suffer without any distraction. He had no memory of ever having to pee this badly—once when he was a very young child he had been so engrossed in a book that he’d wet himself rather than put off reading the next chapter, but he could only remember the embarrassment of having to tell his grandmother what happened, and certainly not any sensation close to _this._

His bladder felt as though it had grown too large for his body. It pressed out in every direction and it was _heavy_ , weighing him down against the chair and seeming to shift immensely with every squirm and shift Jon made in a futile attempt to alleviate his discomfort

It throbbed with pain and Jon squeezed his legs together, desperate not to lose control while Martin wasn’t looking. The first pot of tea hadn’t seemed like much, but now that it had caught up to him the second one was absolute murder.

Martin returned with his cup and Jon sighed in something that was either relief or resignation. “How do you feel?’ Martin asked.

“Like I have to pee very badly,” said Jon.

Martin leaned over to give him a playful smack in the arm and Jon nearly bent double from the shock of the light tap—his muscles unclenched for a second and he felt a tiny spurt of pee dribble out of him. If Martin noticed his momentary lapse he didn’t say anything.

“Thank you, Jon, that’s very helpful,” he said.

“Lots of pressure. Very uncomfortable.”

“Poor thing.” Despite Jon’s less than excellent description he could see Martin doing some shifting of his own in his seat. He’d been half-hard since they started.

Jon looked down at the cup of tea sitting on the table, mocking him, before picking it up. He could feel his body protesting before he even lifted it to his lips, an anticipatory churning of guts. He took the smallest sip possible and heard Martin laugh.

“You know you have to finish it either way, right?”

Jon took another tiny sip in defiance and ignored the way the liquid trickled unpleasantly down his throat and seemed to land like a stone in his stomach. “I’m aware.”

“Well, are you aware that’s the last one?”

Jon had been so focused on his own agony he hadn’t been able to think about much other than how damnably uncomfortable he felt, but in an instant he Knew the details of the teapot, empty save for a few drops, and the cup of tea in his hands transformed from an instrument of torture to his ticket out of hell and he picked it up and gulped it with such force it felt like there was something shoving the tea down his throat. Jon sputtered around the too-large mouthful of liquid and before he could make any conscious decision about it his carefully taut muscles loosened.

For a second, the pent-up energy in Jon’s body remained and he wondered if he’d broken his ability to pee by neglecting it for too long. Then, before he could progress further down that line of thought, the contents of his bladder left him.

It felt like he’d exploded. The liquid just gushed, hard and fast, and with such force it didn’t so much as go any direction but everywhere. It kept rushing out of him in a steady stream, so fast it seemed like each spurt was layered on top of the next one as it pumped incessantly out of his cock. Jon had never pissed for so long in his life, nor with such intensity. It was as if he himself was draining out of him along with the pee.

Eventually the flood slowed, and the intensity was replaced with an ache in his groin, like his bladder didn’t know what to do with itself now that it wasn’t overfull. Jon opened the eyes he hadn’t realized were closed and saw Martin staring at him, transfixed.

The last bit of piss leaked out of Jon and he sat, feeling as though he’d been run through a rather aggressive wash cycle. His entire flesh was raw, tingly—an amount of tenderness that was surprisingly enjoyable. He shifted to a more comfortable sitting position and felt the dampness of his trousers squelch against the now soaked towel they had placed on the chair to keep it clean. His entire front was soaked, now that he was more aware of it: his crotch was a sticky mess, and Jon could feel warm piss rolling down his legs and soaking into his socks.

Martin was still staring, harder than ever, and Jon felt a surge of pride, something he never though he’d feel after pissing.

Finally, Martin opened his mouth.

“Jesus.”

“Yes,” said Jon, because it seemed like the only thing he could say.

"That was uh, that was um. Wow," said Martin.

"In a good way?" Jon asked, now mostly returned to reality and slightly self-conscious about the fact that he was sitting on a kitchen chair covered in rapidly-cooling piss.

"Oh yes of course!" Martin tripped over himself to answer, "you did great! Really, really great. I never thought, um, I never imagined ever doing this with anyone else, so... thank you?" He smiled at Jon, somehow more self-conscious despite not being covered in piss. Jon couldn't help but find it a bit endearing.

"You too," he said. He suspected there would be a tape recorder around somewhere to turn off—because the Ceaseless Watcher was nothing if not strange and thorough, but for now he enjoyed pretending to share in something private with Martin.


End file.
